Oh God, Not Another Title to Come Up With!
by Reborn from the Ashes
Summary: A Tale of Dubious Origin: two Elronds, two Legolases, the Twins and a gaggle of Council members. Whatever shall happen? And who is this? Mary Sue?


Disclaimer: Middle-earth and everything therein is the property of Tolkien. I only borrow.

A camera like view pans across the Council of Elrond. Elrond sits at the head, as it were, of the circle of chairs, looking disturbingly like Hugo Weaving, receding hairline and all. Glancing quickly through the seated attendants of the meeting you spot many other characters that resemble their movie counterparts…

…Elrond sits up straighter and begins to speak, "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mor–" His speech is suddenly cut short and he collapses to the ground. From behind his seat a dark, cloaked figure steps forward and stands over the prostrate form of the Lord of Rivendell, in his hand is a cudgel of some sort. Everyone tenses and grips their chairs, but no one makes a move.

With a dramatic flourish the cloak is cast aside and everyone gasps. Standing before them is an exceeding tall man, broad shouldered and strong. One glance at his fair face and you can see that he is an elf. His face is ageless with gray eyes lit with the light like that of the stars. His dark flowing hair spills over his shoulders and on his head is a circlet of silver. He is venerable as a King and as hale as a warrior.

He glances around the assembly before calling out in elvish and two more men come into the circle and throw back their hoods. Young men they seem, but with the bearing of elven-lords. Both are dark haired and so alike are they to each other and the other elf that one must assume that they are twins and the sons of the imposing figure standing over the still unconscious Elrond.

He begins to speak, not in elvish, but in another tongue. The council stares blank eyed at him, appearing not to understand, even Gandalf seems lost. The elf sighs, and addressing the sky, speaks quietly. None understand what he says until the last few words,  "Again, thank you." He lowers his head to them and speaks; this time they can comprehend him.

"I had best introduce myself. _I_ am Elrond, Lord of Imladris." Everyone stares open mouthed. "This-", indicating the person at his feet "- this is but a crude copy, my counterpart." Then gesturing to the two men beside him, "These are my sons, Elladan and Elrohir." People begin to whisper hurriedly to each other as if greatly surprised. They have not long to think over this before three more elves appear. The first elf was introduced as Glorfindel; he was tall and straight with hair of shining gold, and a face that was fair and young. Two others came, and were called Erestor and Galdor.

The council was at a loss for words, especially the non-elven folk. Those elves present in the council compared to these seem but like children. The newcomers' beauty far surpasses them and their presence and bearing was more tangibly different from the mortal folk present.

The newly claimed Elrond speaks again, "You all are imperfect copies trespassing in this realm, forcing its true inhabitants into a limbo that even I find tedious and undesirable. But with help, we have come back to claim it."

With this new threat the council members can no longer sit idly by. The first to his feet is Legolas. He begins a speech, but stops abruptly as a hand clasps his shoulder and turns him around. This new figure is more than a head taller. He is as tall as a young tree, lithe and strong, dressed in green and brown. He calmly stares at the tan robed Legolas until he looses what nerve he has and sits back down.

Elrond addresses them, "This, as you can see, is the true Legolas." Legolas bows and continues to guard his counterpart. "It is time, come forth!" At his word many people come out as if from thin air, and the council is now surrounded, seemingly each member having a corresponding and notably _armed_ counterpart looming over them. There are many other elves as well, all armed and prepared to help overpower the council should they resist.

Gandalf looses his patience and gets to his feet and begins to walk swiftly towards Elrond, as if to speak more privately.

"Hold!" Gandalf stops and turns around and focuses on the owner of the voice, as everyone else does likewise. Standing there in gray raiment, with white hair, a sweeping silver beard and broad shoulders is none other than…Gandalf. The burning coals of his eyes focusing on his counterpart. His presence becomes looming almost filling the porch, before settling back down. His counterpart stands still, resigning to his fate, but unwilling to approach his superior self, does not sit back down.

A small figure comes out from behind the true Gandalf and stands in front of the supposed Frodo. This Frodo stares in aw of the figure standing before him. Though wholly different he cannot but surmise that this _is_ Frodo. Because of hardships he is not quite so stout as he once was, and as Gandalf once described him as being, for a hobbit, taller than some and fairer than most, with a cleft in his chin, a perky chap with a bright eye. Perkiness aside this describes him well. Though still stouter and much older than the seated Frodo.

Many such quiet meetings occur. Aragorn and Boromir sit in aw of the dwarfing stature and bearing of their true selves. Gimli and Gloin confront the their doubles and the two nameless dwarves with them.

Suddenly, with many a yelp and protest Sam, Pippin and Merry, with a firm hand on their collars, are dragged into the circle by three serious looking hobbits. It is now more than obvious who they are. The three struggling hobbits become suddenly silent when they see the vast assemblage surrounding them and are the most startled by the two Elronds.

After many moments of silence Elrond speaks again, "We have wasted much time." Speaking quietly towards the sky again, a fissure tears though the floor of the porch, it is several feet wide and many long, and it engulfs the small stone dais in the center of the porch and it disappears. No light penetrates the looming gap and it is as dark as night. 

The members of the council stare in shock and fear and try to back away, but are instantly griped by many hands.

There is much shouting and struggling, but Elrond calls for silence. Now quiet, the air hangs heavy with anticipation and dread. After a moment the circle parts and two Arwens enter. The council knows the first, but the other is of such surpassing beauty that all previous fears are momentarily forgotten.

She surveys the council with bright gray eyes, "We do not wish to be cruel, but you do not belong here. No harm will come to you. You will be sent back to where you belong. The means for getting back is that," gesturing to the fissure, "alarming as it may seem, you will feel no pain and arrive unharmed." Arwen's soft, musical voice placates the council, but not all for long.

"And where will we _arrive_?" Council Boromir asks quietly. Council Aragorn is too shocked to speak. He glances from one Arwen to the other, open mouthed and quiet.

Elrond answers calmly, "We are not sure, either to a limbo such as we were subjected to or, the more likely outcome, the '_movie'_ that 'the author' often speaks of when she explains this situation. Either way you will come to no harm and will be taken care of." He turns to Glorfindel. "It is time."

Bowing in reply Glorfindel then addresses Arwen, "May I have the honor lady?" She nods her head gracefully. Glorfindel approaches the other Arwen and offers his hand. She glances at her father, still laying on the ground; a single tear runs down her cheek before she takes the proffered hand. She is led to the fissure and quietly steps into the blackness and immediately disappears. Council Aragorn watches this quietly, emotion clear on his face. He steps forward with a proud bearing, though a poor copy he still has his pride and honor and love for Arwen.

He walks to the fissure unattended and follows her stead. With such examples before them other council members, one by one, disappear. The unconscious Elrond is lifted and put into the fissure by Elladan and Elrohir. Only a few stray elves of the council remain and they swiftly disappear. "Glorfindel please have _that_ take its turn," Elrond stares intently at a lone dark haired elf. The elf avoids Glorfindel's grasp and walks into the darkness. And so Figwit was gone, and the last remaining council member was removed.

Elrond and all those present sigh with relief.

"Don't forget about me!" The circle parts again, for Bilbo, Sting in hand, was escorting his double into the ring of people.

Elrond smiles down at the old hobbit, "Where were you? We missed you in the all the fuss."

"Had to find _him_," Bilbo points to his double. "Had a hard time finding him, don't know why he wasn't at the council. And this place is so queer I had a devil of a time finding my room." He smiles broadly. "Don't worry Lord Elrond, I've explained everything to him. He's not a bad chap, but in you go." Bilbo walks him to the fissure and with a clap on the shoulder and a smile goodbye Bilbo's double steps into the fissure and is gone.

Elrond sighs and smiles, "Well I hope that is it. Now back to the matter at han-"

"Not actually father," Elrohir interrupts. Elladan and Elrohir quickly step behind the former Elrond's seat and pull out a tied and gagged form. It was a female, though later on, if you asked any of those present what she looked like none would be able to answer with any certainty and if any did no two accounts would match. Her form constantly shifted; hair, eyes, raiment and even race changed every few moments.

All those present shivered with disgust. Elladan and Elrohir, because of the shifting, were having difficulty keeping hold of her, but because of a morbid sense curiosity Elladan asked, "Father, shall we see if she has any last words?" Elrond nodded his head, but soon regretted it. For the torrent that spewed forth once the gag was removed was quite painful to all those present.

"What is the meaning of this?" she screeched. "You can't do this to me for I am Quelleulmawen, princess of Mirkwood and wife of Legolas!" Legolas visibly shudders at this. A second later a shift occurs, "No! I am Lithiel, banished Ranger, half-sister of Aragorn and betrothed of Boromir." Boromir and Aragorn send each other confused looks. A pause, "No! For I am Rosie Cotton, where's my Sam!" Sam looks aghast at this declaration. Pause, "No! I'm Hallabrethiliel servant to Thrundril and secret lover of Legolas." Legolas winces, less from the statement that he had a lover, but more from the butchering of his father's name. Another pause, "No I'm Himlaithien, daughter of Gandalf and Galadriel." This statement broke through Gandalf's calm façade and he quirked his eyebrows in shock. [1]

Elrond and everyone else has had more than enough of this, and without needing any direction, Elladan and Elrohir, with little ceremony, send her head long into the fissure.

And so Miss Sue was gone and the final key to the puzzle was in place.

The ground shivers slightly and slowly Rivendell reverts back to its true form and any remaining minor elves or men that did not belong disappear in a whiff of smoke. A loud shout rings out from all the residents of Rivendell and it is heard for many miles.

With a smile Elrond looks to the sky, "Thank you again."

The air is fills with a soft, though high pitched, female voice coming from above, "Oh, you're welcome." A giggle is heard, but it eventually fades out.

With a contended smile on every face the council members take their seats and the remaining others disperse.

Similar such events occurred all throughout Middle-earth. And so it was Middle-earth was purged and the real world of the writings was forever divorced from the world of the movie and both worlds were content.

And what of the world of fan fiction? Its fate is unknown. Many say it exists, but with its unstable nature and conflicting elements it was widely thought to have caused the world's collapse. Though if you asked one of the wise they would tell you that it rises only to collapse and rise again, a never ending cycle of bad plots, a drastic shortage of punctuation, gross errors in geography and innumerable character ruptures.

----

[1] If any of Mary Sue's incarnations resemble one of your characters, my apologies. There were taken off the top of my head and any resemblance is accidental. Though it does say something about the originality or _lack_ thereof of your heroines...

A/N:

Descriptions of characters are taken more or less word for word from Tolkien's writings.

Don't know where this came from, though it might be somewhat original. Though I have to cringe a bit since this is my second fic revolving around the area of the Council of Elrond. But it is such fertile ground for ideas.

Well, la di da, hoped you liked it. Won't be the least bit surprised if you don't. Well, review away if you wish.

The Author


End file.
